Ben clutched the book, his mouth moving without control as the voice—cold and raspy—spilled out secrets he didn’t know he had. “I watched her fall. I didn’t help. I just walked away.”
The librarian’s face darkened. “The book remembers,” he said, stepping closer. Ben tried to let go, but his hands were glued to the leather. The pages flipped wildly, revealing a horrifying illustration: a boy standing at the edge of a cliff, a shadowy figure behind him.
Ben’s eyes widened. “That’s not me,” he stammered. But the voice in his head whispered, “It will be.”
The lights went out completely. When they flickered back on, the book was gone—and so was Ben.
The librarian sighed, turning to straighten the shelf. “They never listen,” he muttered before vanishing into the shadows.
